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<title>a queen, swaying alone, stroking her cheek by vesuvivian</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29391261">a queen, swaying alone, stroking her cheek</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesuvivian/pseuds/vesuvivian'>vesuvivian</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/F, F/M, Light Angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:28:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>584</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29391261</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesuvivian/pseuds/vesuvivian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Historia daydreams of Ymir during her years as queen as well as reflects on her current life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss &amp; Ymir, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a queen, swaying alone, stroking her cheek</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm thinking of adding a second and third part to this, both of which MIGHT be sadder than this first part (if I ever get around to writing them, lol). For now, it's just this short piece.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“To my dear Historia,” </em>
</p><p>The words in the letter replayed softly in the echo chamber that was Historia’s mind. The blonde girl stood in her grand room, taking shaky breaths. The letter laid on a desk far away, worn out from reading one too many times; small wrinkles and splotches of tears adorned it. One of her hands reached for her face, she caressed it lightly, imitating her lover’s strokes…or at least what she thought were her lover’s caresses. Historia had tired out her memories of Ymir so much that she wasn’t sure which parts were real, and which of them were polished by her desires, by the constant retelling; a perfect, shiny imitation of what was.</p><p>Historia wasn’t always like this, though, not after being named queen of Paradis; few were the moments she had to herself, and even rarer those in which she indulged in her own bittersweet feelings. She had hardened her heart and vowed not to show weakness; she lived in a nest of sharks now, and every single one of them was waiting for her to slip, expecting the moment when her façade would falter, and they could all tear her limb from limb. But every now and then, she would open the chest of her memories, and sink in the feeling of hopelessness, of wanting to run away, and never look back at this cursed place.</p><p>She closed her eyes and began to sway softly. Her thumb glided across her jawline, stopping at her chin; her index finger came to her lips, lining out the shape of it, and she could picture Ymir’s hands as her own. The hands were of a warm olive color, they were slightly spotted, decorated with small freckles; long, lean fingers and ample nail beds that grew medium length. Historia smiled. She moved again, feeling her entire face. If she thought hard enough, she could see Ymir dancing with her, even with no music, it was the two of them alone in this room now.</p><p>Ymir’s tall figure was towering over her own, she wore a nobleman’s suit with lush velvet, royal blue fabric, and gold detailing; Historia wore a lilac gown, the crown, and some jewelry; her blonde hair was in an updo, while Ymir’s was in a small bun. One of Ymir’s hands was now on Historia’s lower back, their feet moving in sync to the nonexistent tune playing in Historia’s made-up ballroom; they had wide smiles, and the bystanders watched in awe of the two girls who dared to be open, in love, and happy. Ymir leaned into Historia’s face, their noses touching, rubbing together.</p><p><em>“You’re so…” </em>Ymir’s voice began.</p><p>The doors to Historia’s bedroom burst open. Historia kept moving and laughing, only stopping when she heard the servant girl clear her throat. She dropped her hands to her side, shaking her head. She turned around to face the girl.</p><p>“Please, forgive my silliness…Um, I’m just…” Historia let out a fake laugh, not knowing exactly how to explain what had just transpired; a slight blush tinted her ears from embarrassment. The servant shook her head, laughing along with her queen.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Your Highness. I’m only here to let you know that there’s someone requesting a private audience with you.” The girl spoke.</p><p>The queen sighed. Back to facing reality, of living in it; she tight-roped constantly between her dreams and her real life, but the sting of being brought back never seemed to mitigate with the years. </p>
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